The Perfect Night

I’m buried beneath a cloak of deep blue
In the fabric are sewn tiny dots of great fire
Ablaze they all sparkle against the dark blue
And they seem to all dance and dance with a smile

They lean o’er to touch but with drawl ‘bout halfway
A bright shadow o’er the coat all dipped in black
And the dancers still shadow the cloak as they may
Their feet never stop till their master calls back

They run with great speed to their loved hiding place
And the dancers, the cloak, become buried from sight
And will never appear; least not to bright eyes
And my heart moans, impatient, to wait for the
wolfshield wolfshield
18-21, F
Jul 15, 2012